


Drunk on Halloween

by redstrawz



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Creepy, Demon Blood, Halloween, Haunting, Horror, M/M, im late for the halloween lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27445354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redstrawz/pseuds/redstrawz
Summary: As the 31st approached, Renjun knew well that it was the perfect day to get drunk and pretend he didn't exist, but the day is treacherous and the night is just a child.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Drunk on Halloween

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Drunk on halloween](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/710821) by redstrawz. 



> Helloooooooo! This is my first work in english so if anything come wrong, please forgive me:(
> 
> guys, I need to warn you that in development have a lot of mention of really disgusting things, be careful ..
> 
> (ps. you actually can find this in brazilian portuguese in spirit fanfics in my account with the same pseudonym.)

During the fall in October, the wind brings the dry leaves to the ground, painting the gray and dull street with brown tones. Next to him, the witches hitchhike and begin their mischief journey on the last day of october.

Right in the middle of a big city suburb, in one of the twin brick buildings on the third floor, a lonely soul wandered between the rooms with a mug of unsweetened coffee and a frown of disgust.

That was Huang Renjun, twenty-seven years old on his back working in a miserable office three streets away. The frown on his face was explained by the fact that he was not at all excited about Halloween. The coffee was standard.

He wandered quietly between the rooms behind the fat cat he had as a faithful squire on cold Saturday nights.

— Midnight? You stupid fat cat, I hope you didn't get stuck under the bed again. — Snorted entering the tiny room at the end of the corridor.

Said and done, there was the black cat, sleeping peacefully under the wooden dais. It was unknown how that cat could get in there and couldn't get out at all.

He thought the old and fat cat silently, but he barely had the strength to fight him or get him out of there, after all, turning the bed was never an easy task. However at that moment, he sat down next to the double bed and turned a good sip of coffee, watching the window with the night and urban view of the city.

He liked how hot bitterness went down his throat, warming his insides. He was a good friend in any climate, in any feeling, just as Mr. Midnight was meant to be.

— You rascal. He sighed deeply. — Aren't we going to watch that horror movie? Today is our day! I still can't believe you betrayed me for a nap.

The hair acorn at least moved with the complaint. Renjun was not surprised, because, knowing the cat well, he would not leave there anytime soon. Who knows in the next incarnation? If I had known before, I would have called that damn black cat Lazy, it would make more sense. 

— It's  _ Halloween _ , Midnight. — He took another sip of coffee that was slowly starting to cool. — I know you're not listening to me, but have you noticed how every year we are both the same? You stuck under the bed and I got mad at you while I took a bottle of soju in that old armchair in the living room? 

Renjun had been living in this cyclical time for more than five years, the time when he lived alone. Every day thirty one, he repeated the same routine. At nightfall, after buying some drinks on the way home from work or going out to buy, he turned off the lights and delighted in the acid taste of alcohol and tobacco warming his chest, just listening to the sound of the witches' laughter and of the fire burning the woods in your fireplace.

The man laughed with pure scorn, that was not the life he had imagined when he was only seven. Well, as he recalled at twenty-five years old, he already imagined having two mansions, being graduated in Engineering, married and with three children. But fate is not solidary.

He realized that it was already close to seven when he threw his head on the mattress and noticed the small clock on the side table. He needed to get out as soon as the kids started knocking on his door or the convenience store down the street. 

He took a last sip of coffee before getting up and watching the fat cat still standing under the bed. When he returned, he would worry about getting him out of there for the hundredth time.

He leaned against the bedroom door and headed for the living room, he noticed that "The Night of the Demons" was on TV, a Halloween horror classic, the same movie he had seen for years with his fat cat. 

He found the remote in one of the folds on the sofa and turned off the television. The next minute, he rummaged through his work bag for his wallet and house keys that, for some reason, weren't hanging by the door. 

He turned off the lights, put on his shoes and left the house. In the corridor, it was possible to notice the efforts of the neighbors to decorate their doors, carpets and the passage itself. When he looked at his own entrance, there was nothing, not even the traditional welcome carpet.

As soon as he greeted the families who were talking happily in the corridor and started down the wooden stairs, two small bodies collided with his face.

Renjun focused on the bad sight and noticed the two boys, who went down a few steps, a little stunned.

— Sorry, Mr. Renjun. — One of the little ones spoke, rubbing his little eyes. 

Those two people's projects were Chenle and Jisung, their neighbors, children of the _Greater_ _Work of Art_ Heavenly Sculptured: Jung Jaehyun. Too bad he was already happily married.

— I said several times that you can't run on the stairs, children, one day you will get hurt or hurt someone! — And speaking about him. — Sorry, Renjun. These two have no judgment.

— Don’t worry. — He forced a smile. 

— Hey! — the little one exclaimed excitedly — Are you going to give sweets this year? Please! 

Both boys had been knocking on his door for at least three years, but Renjun had never given sweets, this year would be no different. But, when he noticed the younger boy's plump face and hands close to the other's face, maybe he should give in to the sweetness a little this year.

— I can see, all right? — Stroked the locks of both.

— You should try to give sweets today. It’s so cool to see the happy expression of the children when we put a quantity of sweets in their bags, it is gratifying. — He smiled as beautifully as ever. — Happy Halloween, Renjun! — Without any warning, he removed the bat headband from his head and placed it on the neighbor's head. 

The Chinese man contorted his face, he was going to remove the tiara and return it, but was interrupted by the call from the neighbor's wife who quickly disappeared from his sight, as well as the children.

He huffed loudly and went back down the stairs, bowed to the old doorman and left the building, rounded the corner and continued walking to the convenience store at the end of the narrow street.

The houses were as decorated as Christmas, bright pumpkins, laughing skeletons, bats floating among the fences and lots of cobwebs. It was already possible to notice some children and adults walking characterized by the streets, with their paper bags and plastic pumpkins in search of hostages to scare and sweets to catch.

Renjun on the other hand, walked with his hands in his pocket and the same expression of boredom as always, longed to never return home. When he sat in the old armchair, he opened the bottle of soju and turned on the television to watch some rough Halloween movie.

The store arrived — which happened to be also completely decorated — opened the door, the bell rang and woke the attendant asleep under the counter. He smiled slightly at the saying whose, being quickly answered.

— I see you got in the mood this year — the attendant sounded hoarse — beautiful tiara.

Renjun was already starting to get lost among the shelves, observing the most varied types of drinks, handpicking his favorites and best companions for that dark night.

— I? Soon me? Never, Jeno.

— What do you do with that packet of assorted candies in your hands and looking at these chocolates? — The blonde smiled and leaned against one of the shelves the Chinese was looking at.

Renjun thought in an instant to say that he would like a sweet that day, but Jeno knew the bitter taste of his lips. 

— Will you give sweets this year? What did you do with Renjun that I know? 

— Forget it, I'm not gonna do that. He returned the packet of candy to the shelf and dodged the chocolates.

Jeno smiled proudly, inside that iron armor he knew more than anyone, that there was a soft and pulsating heart that one day, would yield to the sweet smile of the children. 

Next to Jeno, he took a basket and capriciously added two large alcoholic bottles and a bunch of cans of beer. He didn't even know for sure if he would drink all those cans, but he was about to get out of there in an instant.

The attendant followed the steps of the other with his eyes analyzing him from top to bottom. That short man moved with him whatever the season, but he was sure that on Halloween, there was some evil influence between them.

Renjun was extremely attractive at that time, according to Jeno. He sported a frown and a citrus bad mood. Always around 7pm on that date, he would come to the convenience store, put at least a bottle of Rum and five longnecks in the basket, lean against the counter and sound slowly in his ear that he would like a pack of cigarettes. 

Jeno had a certain fall that was barely disguised by the client, they went casually to bed or crumpled in the alley next to the shop when the Chinese returned from work. He liked that, but Jeno had a burning desire to make official makeovers but he was quite sure that Renjun was not one of those guys who make a commitment.

— Jeno, do you know? — He rested his face on his hands, coming very close to the thin lips of others. — Menthol.

The blonde nodded, the shiver that went up his spine was perhaps due to the sensuality of others, but on that particular night he preferred to blame the ghosts on the loose.

After paying the bills, he went up on tiptoe and wrapped his fingers in the discolored strands of others, joining his lips in a kiss not chaste for family time. The eldest didn't care about that, much less if he would take a pocket of a mother furious with the vulgarity.

He snuck out of the stores while Jeno was still panting with his eyes closed to immortalize the moment. As soon as he felt the cold breeze surrounding him, he took out his lighter and the pack from inside the bag, he would smoke at least two even at home. When he pressed the cigarette between his teeth, he winked at the blonde through the glass.

With leisurely steps he returned to the apartment, swallowing the piece of death and expelling life. He watched how the world went slowly, how the cold, intrinsic streets were uninteresting, dry, cruel. The gray sky, lifeless. The sweet but lonely moon on such a vast plane.

As soon as the first cigarette was finished, he was too close to home, he would smoke one more, leaning against the lamppost, his right leg in front of the body playing with a puddle of rainwater in the morning. His reflection was pure misery, thin arms without turning, deep cheeks and dark circles. The bat tiara on his head makes him laugh without grace.

He crushed his cigarette with the tip of his scrapped sneakers and entered the building unceremoniously, preferring the fire escape, as he would avoid meeting neighbors too happy for such a despicable date.

This time, his floor was empty, however, the residents had finished decorating it and it was really macabre, perfect for scaring five-year-olds-kids. When he pulled the keys out of his pocket, he noticed that a ghost had been hung on his doorknob. Obviously Jaehyun's work, as it seemed to have been done in a hurry and by children.

He went into the living room and placed the two heavy bags on the tiny kitchen table, the apartment was as cold as ice and as dark as ever. He had left the living room window open, not even the streetlights were able to illuminate the place. 

None of this bothered him directly, but he turned on the kitchen light to be skilled enough to grab a glass that he could drink his drinks and prepare an instant noodle. He opened a beer can and put everything else in the empty refrigerator, took a good sip to finally breathe a sigh of relief.

In the bedroom, at the end of the corridor, Renjun removed his big thick coat and exchanged his socks for an older pair. He looked under the bed and Mr. Midnight was still in the same position, not expected to wake up.

He returned to the kitchen, which actually made up the living room, but was slightly divided by two benches.

He placed the kettle on the fire to cook the pasta, drank some more of the hot beer and rested its weight against the marble countertop.

The cold climate of the apartment resembles what was inside Renjun, an empty and hideous place. Night was already falling and everything in the apartment was swallowed by darkness. 

He took a sip of his hot beer, narrowed his eyes and savored the bitter taste of his lips. Nothing new.

In an instant, the television started to sizzle, the gray and black lines uncontrolled on the screen and the small aluminum ball at the end of the antenna hit the floor. 

The man turned the rest of the beer over, kneaded it and threw it in the trash next to the window. He opened the refrigerator and quickly the barley was running down his throat again.

The wind in the window became more rough, the curtain flew and he started to whistle like crazy. The witches were on the loose.

The fireplace is lit, the fire burned the wooden logs, cracking like hell in celebration. Sparks escaped through the hole and scorched a small piece of carpet.

Still immersed in pitch, lit briefly by the stove and kettle fire, the television sizzling. The wind was roaring and the witches were evil, doing something to a helpless little child.

He took another drink of beer, squinted and crossed his arms, boring.

All remnants of light were extinguished along with the voracious whistle of the kettle. Huang's almond-shaped eyes flashed to the fireplace, where a flaming-haired being stared at him.

He sighed deeply, focused on the slightly blurred vision in the fireplace, and there was nothing else there. The lights go on and the Chinese man turns off the fire, pours the water into the plastic pot and mixes it with a pair of chopsticks. 

He brings with him two cans of beer and another bottle of aged whiskey that was left over the counter next to the moldy bread. He sits down in the armchair, which creaks under his weight, and starts eating while watching the TV squeak.

When he finishes the pasta and opens another can, the lights go out again and the cold wind hits his window, the deafening noise of the television increases and his vision darkens.

A sip and a cold sensation runs down his spine. Two strokes, the hot breath hits the back of his neck and his hair stands on end. Three strokes and the lights come on.

— What you want from me? — Huang asked coldly, placing the beer bottle on the table next to the chair.

— You.

The lights blink madly, beep, your appliances almost jump from the huge energy load that hits them. It crashed once when his attention went to the fireplace that was burning with a merciless fire. 

With tanned skin, fire hair and eyes immersed in the deepest pitch, marked by all promiscuity. The black clothes, which mold the body sculpted by all sin, look at it perfectly. Thick lips, full of pleasure, that verbalize cruel words.

But quickly disappear from your vision; everything is dark, his eyes are forced to get used to the eminent pitch, the window screams, creaks, the sky is dark and starless, cruel. Witches die laughing, their broomsticks make noise and play through the skies in search of victims for mischief.

The children downstairs play, ring the bells, eat sweets before dinner and run like crazy, barely imagining that hell is about to settle on the third floor, just above their heads.

[...]

A while after a lot of calm, Renjun remains static, drinking the bottle of whiskey by the neck, the hot liquid running down his throat, burning his heart and troubled mind.

Her legs close to her chest as the wind punishes the window door and a soft whistle bothers her ears. He put his feet on the ground, frightened, his ears were ringing so much, and he was far from fully lucid, fear was running through his veins.

— You won't run away from me so fast. — Theser was so close that the hot breath ruffles every hair on his body.

— What do you want from me?

—  _ You _ .

The Chinese man's waist tightened, a grip so strong that the sharp claws of his rough hand pierced his skin, an excruciating pain took over his body and almost collapsed under the floor, but the demon held him.

—The night is young, it is still too early to die. — He laughed, evaporating into the air. Renjun fell hard to the floor. — Four hours to midnight. 

The lights flashed again, all the doors slammed uncontrollably, and the once empty and abandoned kettle on top of the stove was beeping and a thick, dark liquid escaped in great quantities through the spout and lid.

The cat ran from the room, meowing loudly and running to Renjun's bewildered figure. In the background he noticed the black shape contrasting with the white wooden door.

— You can't escape me, Mark. — He roared, — fool. — He snapped his fingers and the cat became a thin man, dark hair like ebony, completely naked.

— Why are you here? I thought your body burned in hell. — He stood up stiffly, but was barely able to balance on his own legs.

— I am a demon, Lee. My body feeds on the infernal flame. I’m immortal, just like you. He ran his fingers over his well-defined jaw. — You are like me, you are stuck in the bosom of Satan, but you had a hateful path. You’re trapped like a cat, following a dirty human. Useless, Mark Lee.

— And who are you to tell me something? I despise you. — Withdrew his dirty hand from his face and crouched down beside Renjun, who was moaning in pain.

— Evil runs through your veins, don't try to pretend not. You've done a lot worse than me, God save me from this ridiculous show. — He kicked the skinny body on the floor and pinned it like a dead cockroach.

— Leave me alone and get out of here. 

— Not so early. He snapped his fingers and Mark's body was disfigured, guts and pieces of meat everywhere. In another second, when Huang started to vomit, his fingers were snapped again and the cat's body became the same dark, viscous liquid that came out of the kettle. Black, thick and smelly. — Isn't that popular saying that the cat has seven lives? Because I killed you in all of them, we’ll see you in hell soon.

The demon vanished into the air in pure black smoke. Renjun mumbled on the floor, pressed his own waist under his shirt; he felt like throwing up, he was in tears and crying out to all the gods that came to mind but it was too late to run after a religion.

Shortly after pure agony, when the moon outside observes him without the slightest bit of pity, the inebriated light invades the dry and lightless apartment while someone knocks on the door. He didn't have the strength to stand up or scream, he was afraid of who might be on the other side.

— Renjun? Are you there? — A female voice knocked on the door over and over again — Why don't you answer my calls? I'm worried, please answer me.

A few days ago his mother and sister had called in search of at least one sign of the boy's life. He was missing them, but didn't want them around, especially on that date where the weather is darker and doesn't match Huang's perfect family.

— Renjun, please. — She kept knocking, harder and harder. — Mom is worried, I just want to hug you, tell me you're okay.

— Wait a minute.

With all his strength and courage he cried, he preferred to believe that this was really his sister, the slim woman with pink cheeks, always accompanied by flowery dresses contrasting with white skin.

She entered the apartment with her eyes lost, searching every detail until her brother was thrown on the floor. She knelt down to wrap him in a warm, too-hot embrace.

The evil laugh that filled the apartment and the cold sensation that went up his spine from the warmth of Huang's arms, the beautiful girl in his arms squeezed him so tightly that he could easily break in half. 

Against her own back, she was pushing hard. Force to spit, first, a dark liquid, the same smelly liquid that covered the apartment. As soon as the demon appeared again, crouching beside the knot of bodies on the floor, the woman fell apart in his arms. A dark and dirty powder, cockroaches, rats and giant flies. The perfect Huang was made of garbage, obscure and disgusting things. 

A female voice beyond Huang screamed in the background, such a loud and deafening scream came from the corridor and from there the matriarch with stitched eyes and mouths walked towards her. Mrs. Huang was a brilliant and imposing seamstress, no one could shoot her, but she was so focused that her own instruments turned against her.

— Come on, it's fun, look how beautiful they are — He laughed deeply. The beautiful smile adorning the full lips, matching the obscenity of the sculptural body.

The demon comes closer, his obsidian eyes fixed on Huang's hard features as his beautiful hands lock a path from his pants to his defined jaw.

— It's fun to play with you and I didn't even do anything. There are others much worse than me, because, you know, I'm still stuck with the cliché, I like the good old retaliation, the fear described in your eyes, the 1980 horror film, where everything is so simple and predictable — He spoke with the mouth so close to the boy, he couldn't get away and break the eye contact. He is so perfect. Hellfire burns in his iris, all sin is described in the fatal look.

He broke the contact when the lips became one, in an intense and wanton kiss. Exploring every unexplored detail of Renjun's mouth, shamelessly feeling every extension of his bloody and bruised torso. Tenderness and immorality.

Huang was so wrapped up in the intense kiss that when the endless knot was broken and his wet eyes finally focused on the sight in front of him, the room was dark, with no furniture and no more bodies. The head of the so priceless  _ Being _ was that of a cursed goat, much worse than what was described in the books and shown in the series and films half-mouthed as this story.

He howled in pain, he felt again the hot fingers running down his waist and piercing even deeper into his internal organs, as if he were going to remove them with his own hand.

— The retaliation part is more fun, but you are too beautiful for me to end that perfect face. I want to be able to have a chance to taste your lips again. — The long, split tongue like a snake's went up to his ear, licking the entire length. — I’ll be here next year, I'm sure you'll be waiting for me.

With all the impetuosity and agility, his lips were taken again, the kiss hot and inappropriate. His cloudy head, terribly sore and sick, wanted to scream, to push him away, but he was experiencing the most pleasurable sin possible.

When the wild seal was separated, Huang was on the sofa at home, drinking rum from the bottle while watching an eighties classic. The window banging and the kettle beeping for no reason.

The spine was raised; the light in the room blinked through the bad decal and he felt the hot breath against his neck, followed by a smile and the excruciating pain in his body. Cockroaches ran across the floor surrounding Midnight's dead body.

— The night is a child. — the shapeless figure whispered so close to his ear and scratched the sharp nails on his waist.


End file.
